


Synchronised Smutting

by Innin



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: F/F, Ficlet Collection, Food Play, Lazy Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 02:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innin/pseuds/Innin
Summary: A collection of smut drabbles for Synchronised Screaming.





	1. Strawberries and Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuuri... liberates... some cake ingredients for a much better use.

The longhouse kitchen is empty. There are some abandoned preparations - flour and sugar all measured out, a recipe sheet that’s fluttered to the ground in the balmy May breeze. No Asbjørn, who’d invited Tuuri to help him bake the bløtcake for the national holiday the next day - as part of the family and honorary Norwegian as of late, he thinks it’s something she should know. His absence becomes less of a bother when her eyes light on the shipment of fresh fruit from Iceland.

Especially the crate of huge, lusciously red strawberries.

If she takes just a handful… it won’t hurt, there’ll still be plenty for the cake. And she really should take care of that unguarded bowl of whipped cream on the table before one of the homestead cats gets into it. For safekeeping.

She doesn’t have a plan at all.

That plan doesn’t, at all, involve Sigrun, who is currently asleep after a long hunt the night before.

She doesn’t, at all, sneak back to the bedroom with the cream, and run a fingertip of whipped cream over Sigrun’s lips. Sigrun doesn’t at all suck Tuuri’s finger into her mouth before she ever opens her eyes, swirling her tongue around it to make sure there’s no trace of cream left, and not at all to make Tuuri’s breath hitch just a tiny bit.

“I could get used to being woken up like that,” Sigrun says, grinning and releasing Tuuri’s hand with a kiss to her palm. “Mmmh.” She’s sleepy still, her eyes shut again. Only the grin stays.

Tuuri climbs into bed with her spoils and settles against Sigrun’s side to make short work of the blanket cocoon she’s wrapped in, with no clothing underneath. Tuuri can’t help a delighted noise about that - Sigrun, scars and all, is always a sight to see, and she feasts her eyes while biting the tip off a strawberry, letting the sweetness wash over her tongue for a moment.

Then she slides the berry, juice pearling at the tip, over the curve of Sigrun’s breast and over her nipple until it pebbles, crowns it with a dab of cream, and follows the trail with her tongue, while Sigrun, with her eyes now half-lidded, laughs low under her breath.

“And what’s this gonna be when you’re done, Fuzzy?” she asks, a little breathless as Tuuri’s lips make short work of the cream. It tastes even better this way than just strawberries and cream on their own, the hint of Sigrun’s taste adds all the sweetness that might still be lacking.

“Breakfast,” Tuuri says and grins, and makes to repeat her little game all over again. Maybe she’ll draw a pattern this time - if Sigrun lets her… but then again the way she’s eyeing the cream, maybe not.


	2. Languid Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrun and Agneta enjoy some time together.

“Oh, this one’s nice. Where’d you get it?”

Agneta stretches and arches her back under Sigrun’s questing fingers. She talks too much, but Sigrun sure knows how to touch a woman, so Agneta figures offering some afterglow entertainment isn’t the worst she can do as a thank-you. And it’s quite nice to bask naked on her stomach, head pillowed on her crossed arms - better than the perfunctory stuff that she usually does to tire herself out when sleep isn’t coming. Now, still warm from she shower they had together, and calloused in all the right places, Sigrun’s hands linger over the small of her back, where Agneta knows a vaguely star-shaped scar sits just right of her spine.

“Cleansers,” she says, “Before I ever got a position on the Dalahästen; we were clearing out a portion of the railway to Östersund. A troll dropped onto my back from a tree and stabbed me with its claw,” she says.

Sigrun whistles through her teeth in acknowledgment and bends down to kiss it, lingering for a moment, then her lips trail up Agneta’s buttocks to linger there instead. “And this thing, I like this thing,” she says, and Agneta can feel Sigrun’s grin against her skin.

“All my own doing,” Agneta replies. “Training pays off.” It’s not hard to reply in kind - she’s not usually a type for this kind of levity either, but Sigrun has a way of teasing it out of her regardless, another thing in the long list that Agneta enjoys about her company in spite of all the brash Norwegian character that she’s invited onto her train and into her bed.

And - oh. Oh, _that_ certainly is a display of… something, a very hands-on one, taking full advantage of Agneta’s spread legs that Sigrun’s settled herself between, running a finger and then two down to Agneta’s folds, slipping inward easily when Agneta lifts her hips to accommodate her with a little gasp.

“And this one? This one’s the best part,” Sigrun laughs a hot breath into Agneta’s skin, bending down for a closer look.


	3. Small Favours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrun and Dagny play a game, featuring a fun Icelandic contraption.

Sigrun could die right then and then there, and do it happily.

Braced on both elbows, Dagny hovers above her except where their bodies join, holding herself so still that she’s trembling with the effort to keep from thrusting forward. The leather of the strap-on harness stands out against the flush of her skin, a metal buckle has left its mark over her hip. Sigrun aches to touch, twisting her hands against the belt that holds them fast against the headboard of Dagny’s bed before thinking better of it. She could slip out, but where’s the fun in that? After all, she gets to call the shots as long as she stays tied-up.

“Okay,” she breathes. It comes out as nothing more than that, an out-of-breath hiss, but enough for Dagny’s head to snap to attention, bathed in sweat with her eyes blown wide. It’s the best - one of the best - things Sigrun’s ever seen, and she can feel the slight vibrations that are at fault for that, all the way along Dagny’s dick into her own body, and she mentally congratulates herself for ordering this little gift from Iceland, technological wonderland that it is. It feels nice. A bit underwhelming, maybe she should have gotten two.

“Okay,” Sigrun says again. Damn, it’s hard to think when Dagny looks at her like that. “Mouth.” Dagny’s is half-open, her lips deep red, sweat on her upper lip. It opens wider in a whimper of protest; she’s that far gone, the strap between her legs holding the contraption inside. It must be just this side of unbearable for her, and Sigrun takes a little pity at last.

“Make me come and I’ll return the favour.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“No you don’t, you love me.”

Dagny’s reply is lost as Sigrun lifts her legs onto Dagny’s shoulders and lets her head fall back into the pillow - but what else could it be except agreement, with the way she goes right to work?


End file.
